Courageous
Responses

Stunned
disbelief coupled with shared grief filled the days after September 11. Vivid
images and a painful mix of emotions mark this moment in our memory. For many,
this day of remembrance will most likely lead to journeys on painful pathways
of mind and heart. One cannot imagine how it would not, particularly in the
case of those who lost family and friends.

However,
what also come to mind in reflection on the year since the attacks are the courageous
responses that do great honor to the memory of those lost. In the moments, days,
weeks, and months after 9/11, individuals and organizations nationally and internationally—all
reeling in this painful shared experience—rallied to respond.

We
immediately saw courage in the firefighters, police officers, and bystanders
who risked their lives to help those injured in the attacks. We saw the emotional
courage of the ministers, counselors, friends, and neighbors who reached out
to share and ease the pain and suffering of those whose family and friends were
forever taken. We saw the courage of our armed forces, particularly the young
men and women who flew halfway around the world to take action in response to
this terrorist action. We saw a host of people and programs that rose up to
raise money and provide relief as part of the rebuilding process. And on college
campuses nationally and internationally, we saw educators courageously convene
dialogues, engage communities, and plan programs as their active response to
leverage education to fight this kind of terror and hate. But for many of us,
courage shown in other ways is equally inspiring.

Courage
in the Moment

About 10
days after September 11, I had to take my first plane flight. Of course my wife
was not happy, but I had made a commitment to colleagues at the Foothill De-Anza
Community College District in San Jose, California. Like many others, I felt
that not going would be “letting the terrorists win.” So I left
for the airport three hours early as instructed.

When I arrived
at Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix, I was struck by the emptiness. There seemed
to be more airport employees than travelers. A nervous and tired ticket agent
processed my reservation and then stopped for a moment and said, “Thank
you for flying.” This reaction alone got me in touch with what must have
been a frightening and isolating time for those working in the travel industry.
I then proceeded through the newly bolstered security and made my way to the
gate.

As I entered
the gate area and sat down, I began to feel the tension. People were whispering,
cutting eyes at each other, and acting strangely. It was one of those moments
when you know something is going on, but aren’t sure of what’s happening.
Then I saw something that explained the reaction I was seeing: two young, Middle
Eastern teens in Arizona State University shirts, not more than 18 or 19 years
old, sitting alone in the middle of the gate area. They were on our flight.

I can’t
even describe how sad these boys looked. They sat staring down at their backpacks,
knowing that the entire gate area was filled with people nervously glancing
their way, whispering about their presence. Ticket agents were pointing in their
direction and security guards seemed to pass our gate more frequently than others.
When one of the boys got up to get coffee from a nearby Starbucks cart, peering
eyes seemed to watch his every step as he made his way back to his seat. Everyone
in that gate area was swimming in the tension of unspoken innuendo and assumption.

Then she
stood up. A little Midwestern-looking woman, who must have been in her 70s,
looked around at all of the people in the gate area, grabbed her small bag and
purse, walked past three row of seats, and stood right in front of the boys.
She said, “Do you mind getting up?” Even though she stood only 4’11”,
she had an imposing tone. Both boys stood right up. She said, “No, just
you,” pointing at the boy on her left. “Can you move over one seat?”
The boy moved over and the woman turned around and plopped down right between
them.

She sighed
as she arranged her belongings and then looked up at the boys. “Where
are you from?” she asked.

“We’re
from California. But we go to ASU,” the boy who just gave up his seat
responded kind of sheepishly.

“So
are you going home to see family?” she continued to politely pry in her
grandmotherly tone.

“Yes,
our family wants us to come home,” he said, returning his gaze to his
backpack. “They want us to drop out of school this semester because of
all that’s going on.” There was disappointment and sadness in his
voice as he looked up into the caring gaze of the woman.

Some context:
In the ASU area, just days after 9/11, a man claiming to be a “proud American
taking revenge” drove his pickup truck by a gas station, owned by a Sikh
man who wore a turban, and killed the Sikh with a shotgun. In addition, the
media was reporting two separate incidents of Middle Eastern students being
dragged out to the back of the ASU parking lots and beaten up by groups of angry
students. Of course, similar stories were being reported in locations across
the country.

Everyone
in the gate area was pretending not to be listening to the woman’s conversation
with the boys. The truth is, however, we hung on every word. When one boy continued,
“The worst part is, I don’t know if we’ll be able to come
back,” we all were taken aback.

The woman
took a moment. She looked at one boy and then the other, and then reached her
arms around both. She grabbed the shoulders of these boys she had just met and
said, “Boys, don’t worry. We love you. Come back.”

An odd swirl
of emotion filled the gate area. First, there was an almost collective shame
for what had been happening prior to this conversation. And at the same time,
we felt amazing pride to be a part of this moment. This courageous woman reached
out in the face of fear, made a personal connection, and probably made a powerful
difference in the lives of two boys—not to mention those of us in the
gate area.

Courage
in All Forms

We will
surely need courage to continue to confront the evil, hatred, and ignorance
that led to the attacks of 9/11. We will continue to need courage to mount large-scale
campaigns to counteract the efforts of hate groups, terrorist organizations,
and political opportunists. And we will need to be a part of mounting fundraising
efforts and memorial programs to serve those hurt by these terrorists. Educators
can surely play a role in all of these endeavors.

However,
we must also realize our role in an equally courageous task: cutting through
fear, innuendo, and misunderstanding in an effort to reach out, make a connection,
and make a difference in the lives of students. By championing these strategies,
we boldly advance a citizenry that is less likely to be manipulated by the malevolence
and ignorance of hate. Moreover, we can serve as models for our students, communities,
nation, and world.

Mark David Milliron is President and CEO of the League. He can be reached at
milliron@league.org